


O Come All Ye Fowlful

by Jonaira



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: 2000+ words of indulgent nonsense to explain my puns moste fowle, And by golly he gets one, Bad Puns, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Christmas, Christmas Cards, Christmas Crack, Christmas Fluff, Clark Kent Needs a Hug, Comfort/Angst, DaddyBats, Family Shenanigans, Fanart, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Fanart, Lack of Communication, M/M, Minor Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Misunderstandings, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, SuperBat, Tim Drake & Jason Todd Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21911725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonaira/pseuds/Jonaira
Summary: The batkids take over the Wayne family's Christmas card duties for the year and hijinks ensue. Clark gets dragged in, there are the usual Misunderstandings TM, and more feathers than anyone foresaw.Or 2000+ words of indulgent nonsense to explain my puns moste fowle.Art links:The Christmas card to end all cards: https://www.deviantart.com/jonairadsylva/art/O-Come-All-Ye-Fowlful-824395775Bonus:https://www.deviantart.com/jonairadsylva/art/O-Come-All-Ye-Fowlful-Bonus-824396219
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 123





	O Come All Ye Fowlful

The more he looked at it, the more Bruce wondered what exactly had he been thinking when he'd allowed the kids to take over that year's Christmas card creation from Alfred. Who had been travelling for personal reasons if only for a handful of days. He poked at his skull absently, checking for a missed concussion as he studied the finished and _mailed_ card.

"Aw, come on Bruce, it'll still be one less thing for him to do. And he'll still be doing the official public Wayne household card. This one is just for circulation amongst the gang." Tim had dialed up the big blue eyes to eleven.

Bruce had opened his mouth to clarify exactly _who_ comprised the _gang_.

"Plus, this might be the only year Cas gets to design a circulated Wayne card." Tim wheedled, but Bruce had already felt the little give and click within himself that signified being a major pushover and utterly suckered by one's kids even before Cassandra had nodded, dark eyes huge and hopeful. And that had been that.

And now, two weeks later, having completely forgotten that interaction, Bruce had been inundated with voice messages from various League members, because he'd been down in the cave working with do not disturb protocols engaged. The number of messages was odd, but since no alarms either Batman or League related had gone off, he'd decided they could wait until he was done. 

Wonderwoman's call was the first one he ended up answering. "I mean, I was a little hurt initially that I wasn't asked to be part of it if we were doing gag group Christmas cards," Diana had smirked, "but then I figured it wasn't actually a gag card, and as good friends as I am with you and Kal El, that is a little more than I'd want to be involved with the two of you." she'd laughed throatily.

Her expression softened. "I'm happy for you both, you especially though, Bruce. It's so rare that you let yourself have somethings you truly want. And you've been dancing around each other for years now. It was about time."

Then Diana had then paused and asked if he'd been feeling quite well.

Bruce was blinking up at the screen in the Batcave, still in the suit with only the cowl off, sure he looked like a man with no idea how or even which conversation he'd gotten himself into.

"I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage Diana. What card, what about Clark and dancing around who ?"

She gave him a considering look. "You really have no idea do you ? Do you even look at the cards Alfred sends out to the League every Christmas ?"

And then, in one, shining crystal clear second of overwhelming horror, Bruce remembered the conversation with Tim about the card a fortnight ago. 

"I'll leave you to go have your meltdown in peace," Diana told him wryly. And then much sterner, "and remember, I'm sure this is just as much a surprise to Kal as well, so don't take it out on him."

He went through the voice messages, the gauntlets creaking under tightening fingers. All were delivered in various states of mirth, yet every one was equally sincere in their congratulations from those who knew both their alter egos. But not a single call from Clark Kent himself.

The manor had been suspiciously empty when he went looking for Tim and Cassandra, only to be informed by Alfred that they like the rest of the kids were at Dick's, and would all be coming back en masse that evening for dinner at the house.

"Did you know about this ?" Bruce demanded, thrusting [the offending piece of high quality stock paper](https://www.deviantart.com/jonairadsylva/art/O-Come-All-Ye-Fowlful-824395775) under Alfred's nose, already knowing the answer; that it would have never gotten out to people if Alfred had had anything to do with it, but still needing the confirmation all the same.

Alfred was trying very hard not to smile as he studied the card. "I can assure you, Master Bruce, that I did not, but now I truly wish that I had. The line work is familiar, Master Jason's, if I'm not mistaken. He always was inclined towards the fine arts." Alfred traced a careful finger over it. "The photo manipulation is undoubtedly Master Tim's, even as the greeting itself and sign off is Master Dick's handiwork." 

He looked up at Bruce then, expression very kind as he proffered the 5x7 piece of devastation back. "You should talk to him. Taking the first step in this situation would be essential to prevent any lasting damage to the current relationship you have with Master Kent, regardless of what you'd like it to continue as from here on."

"This was way out of line," Bruce grit out, trying desperately to hold onto his anger at his children, but fighting a losing battle even as he felt what may have intially been anger dull to irritation, which fizzled out to frustration and eventually limped into weak hope.

Alfred gave him the single raised British eyebrow of judgement. "Perhaps. Although might I remind you, that you being the adult and parent in this situation, are also the one who must deal with it appropriately."

He sighed.

Bruce was, amongst all things, foremost a strategist. And no good strategist couldn't improvise and work with spokes thrown into their wheels. This didn't have to change anything between Clark and him for good or worse. It would be a straightforward, if massively embarrassing explanation.

Except he dithers uncharacteristically as he sets out to call Superman, checking his email (mindnumbing as usual) and Gotham security feeds (nothing out of the ordinary for the city) and tracking the movements of his rogue gallery (apparently all enjoying the holidays indoors), before finally, frustrated with himself, getting to it.

Clark picks up on the first ring.

"I can explain," Bruce says in greeting, fully intending to tell the truth and throw the imps he called his children under the bus.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Clark replied (deceptively) mildly. His words were nearly drowned out by the roar of wind in the background.

"Although, fair warning, it had better be good enough to explain to my Ma in person, which you will do as the compensation I'm collecting for this particular situation." The steel in his voice matched his alter ego's title and brooked no argument, Bruce thought wearily. Clark he could handle, if not as easily as he'd thought before, but the idea of having to explain his family's absurd brand of humour to Mrs. Kent was not something he looked forward to in the least, and in person that too.

"I suppose that's fair," he muttered, massaging his temples.

Clark sighed on the other end. "I'm guessing you had no idea about this or hand in it either."

"Obviously not," Bruce tried not to snap, "but that's no excuse for it getting past anyone who could have stopped it from happening either, so I will call up the individual members of the League and personally explain to them that it was a misunderstanding and sort out this whole mess."

"Ah." The roar of the wind over the line died down abruptly. There was a tapping on the window pane.

"Ma at least was quite happy with labouring under this particular misunderstanding. She was ecstatic when she called, if rather cut up with me for not telling her sooner and that she had to find out from a Christmas card of all things." Clark's voice had gone back to deceptively mild as he eyed Bruce carefully while climbing into the room.

Bruce sunk onto the nearest horizontal surface. He could feel a headache coming on, throbbing behind his eyes, and to his utmost surprise, found himself wistful. 

The Portuguese had a word for what he was feeling, Bruce supposed quizzically. _Saudade_ , a deep nostalgia or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cared for immensely. 

But then, how could one be nostalgic for something they'd never had ? A relationship that had never bloomed and died subsequently to be missed.

He felt a tentative hand on his shoulder. Clark looked uncomfortable but determined as he sat beside him on the bed. "You're taking this a lot harder than I expected. So I'd be a poor investigative journalist if I didn't figure there's more to your reaction than meets the eye."

Bruce couldn't meet his clear gaze. He looked away, shaking his head as he stood up and began pacing.

"I'll take care of it, this one's on me." He waved a hand airily, trying for disaffected. Bruce didn't miss the way Clark's eyes narrowed at his clear side-stepping of whatever underlying issue had visibly troubled him.

Steeling himself, he now looked Clark in the eye. "I'm sorry you were involved in this. Tim and the rest of my children decided to design the personal Christmas cards this year instead of Alfred, and clearly thought this would be hilarious." His lip curled.

"But misguided as their actions may have been, I promise it wasn't done with ill intent." He looked up.

Clark rolled his eyes at that. He scrubbed a hand through his already wind ruffled hair. "Bruce I know that, Ok ? They're great kids, and," he smiled softly, "you may not be a paragon of virtue yourself but you are and always have been an amazing parent. You've raised them right."

Despite himself, Bruce felt the tension leave his shoulders. "Good, this is sorted then. I'll get to finishing those calls to all and sundry. This is going to be such fun," he muttered.

Clark stood up. "So I guess we're done here," he scratched the back of his neck. 

Bruce nodded. "I'll let you know when it's finished and warn everyone off giving you any shit." He couldn't help smirking a bit at the thought of Superman blushing at the ribbing he probably would have gotten otherwise.

"Right. Yeah, that would be good." Clark rocked back and forth on his heels. He made no move to leave, either out the way he'd come in or more conventionally.

They stood blinking at each other across the room. And then Clark sighed massively, and his whole body seemed to droop the same way his face fell. He trudged to the window in apparent defeat. Bruce was nonplussed.

"You know, for what it's worth," Clark said quietly over his shoulder, "I was pretty happy labouring under what I guess was a misconception on my part too when I first got that card." And then he took off.

Or he would have, if Bruce hadn't lunged for his hand, caught the edge of his sleeve instead, gotten dragged bodily out the window nearly dislocating his shoulder, and almost landing in Alfred's peonies two stories below.

"What the hell Bruce," Clark exclaimed as he lifted him in both arms back onto the windowsill. Under them, the flora rejoiced for not being crushed.

"Knew you would catch me," Bruce said trying not to sound as breathless as he felt. Or maybe the breathlessness was because of what he was about to do next. 

Clark had opened his mouth to respond, looking some hybrid of pissed off and concerned and hurt, so the kiss was wetter than Bruce has estimated, but he wasn't complaining.

"Wanted to test out a hypothesis," he murmured as he scraped teeth over Clark's lower lip. With a low groan Clark seemed to get over his initial shock and then responded enthusiastically. 

Bruce lost time. When they both surfaced for air an indeterminate amount of time later, his backside was sore and cold from perching on the window ledge with his feet dangling into space, and he was ridiculously enough, still clutching the scrap of ripped plaid from Clark's sleeve.

Clark looked a little drunk as he hovered in space. He shook himself a bit like a dog emerging from water. "I think we both have been victims of different kinds of misunderstandings for a little too long now," he said carefully, the undercurrent of hope in his voice making a matching part deep within Bruce ache a little.

Bruce couldn't stop the huge grin that crept onto his face. "In that case, let's clear things up," he said dragging Clark back into his home by the lapels.

Hours later- blissful, naked, warm skin filled hours later, Clark cocked his head and stopped working on the impressive hickey he had been sucking onto Bruce's neck.

"The bats will reach the belfry in ten minutes give or take"

Bruce snorted. "You mean the brats."

Clark chuckled. "I really can't find it in myself to be too mad with them you know." He brushed back a lock of Bruce's sweaty hair that had fallen over his forehead.

"How are they planning to spy on us ?" Bruce asked, stretching lazily.

"Jason is all for sending up a drone to look in through this window, Tim is in favour of hacking the security feeds, Damian wants to give me the shovel talk involving the business end of his katana, Dick is trying the convice all of them not to, Barbara is egging them all on, Stephanie and Cas want pie, Duke doesn't know how he got there or why is he still there." Clark took a breath. 

"I think they're confused whether to potentially walk in on us and be able to never unsee something, or walk in on you alone and sad in here and know that they failed and only step into the direct line of your wrath. It's basically a toss up whether to check the outcome remotely or in person." Clark propped himself up on his elbow to look Bruce full in the face. "What do you think they'll do ?"

Bruce chuckled. He nodded at the card lying on his desk. "Oh, take a _gander_ ," he grinned.

Clark looked away thoughtfully. "Whatever they decide, I'd say they deserve a live welcome commitee, don't you ?"

Bruce's grin turned evil. "I knew it was impossible for one being to be so completely good and pure. " He patted Clark's bare chest amiably. 

"Come on, let's go scar my children for life," Bruce said cheerfully.

Bonus:

[Replacement](https://www.deviantart.com/jonairadsylva/art/O-Come-All-Ye-Fowlful-Bonus-824396219),

Though a bat would be the obvious choice, even if it were a flying fox - (have you seen those guys? fuckin' adorable is what they are - not the first adjective that comes to mind when you say Bruce) it was too on the nose. 

Big Blue as flightless fowl is ironic genius though and gave me the idea for this instead. 'Cause let's face it, the old man and those demon birds have plenty in common- terrifying fuckers, the both.

I'm expecting my commission pay Timbers, audio and video of relevant reactions from him, HD qual, you know the drill.

-J


End file.
